


The Apartment and Everything That Comes With It

by Pendragons Dragonlord (PseudoAuthor)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoAuthor/pseuds/Pendragons%20Dragonlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The apartment is old. Windows still covered in cobwebs, paint peeling from the walls, the bathroom ceiling covered in mould. </p><p>It’s a dump. </p><p>It’s perfect.</p><p>Apart from the flickering lights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apartment and Everything That Comes With It

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how to define the relationship between Arthur and Merlin. I left it pretty open to interpretation so it could be anything from platonic love to pre-slash to slash. Please feel free to pick out a pair of goggles if you wish. This is unbeta'd.  
> Warnings: mostly covered in the tags...there's a bit of vivid imagery in one part and some swearing.

It begins with flickering lights.

**. . .**

Arthur’s only been here for two weeks.

The apartment is old. Windows still covered in cobwebs, paint peeling from the walls, the bathroom ceiling covered in mould.

It’s a dump.

It’s perfect.

Apart from the flickering lights.

Arthur looks up, annoyed as the lights blink on and off casting eerie shadows across his walls.

He calls Gwaine, the apartment super and complains.

Gwaine tells him to fuck off and wait until Monday. He’s rude but it’s warranted. No one should be called at three in the morning.

**. . .**

True to his word, Gwaine appears on Monday at seven in the morning.

As Arthur opens the door, Gwaine smiles cheerfully. Arthur is still red-eyed and bleary, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand like a little boy.

“Would you like some coffee?” Arthur asks.

Gwaine drops his tools onto the floor and nods his head. “Just direct me to the source of my three am wake-up call and I’ll get started on it.”

There’s a half-hearted wave at the ceiling. “All of them.”

“Seriously.”

“Listen mate, I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”

Turning to go into the kitchen he hears Gwaine mutter about entitled arses and snorts.

At the half an hour mark Arthur wanders out and sees Gwaine glaring at the lights. “There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“Bullshit.” He knows otherwise. Hell he’s come back home to the lights on in his place more often than he can count. Okay, so he’s counted ten out of fourteen times because well…two weeks. Thing is, he _knows_ that all the switches are off. No one can come into his apartment. So unless someone gets their kicks from making his electricity bills sky rocket then there has to be a reasonable explanation for this.

Gwaine shrugs. “Call me if it happens again.”

**. . .**

When Arthur returns home from work all the lights are on. He checks the switches. They’re off. Experimentally he flicks one hearing the little click as his finger pushes up and down. Seems to make no fucking difference. All his lights are still on.

“Gwaine!” he shouts into his phone. “Get your arse up here and fix my damn lights.”

He gets called a wanker, but Gwaine comes up five minutes later.

Arthur points at the lights, fingers playing angrily at his loosened tie. “It was like this when I came home. “

Gwaine scans the room and looks unimpressed as he moves towards the same light switch that Arthur had been fiddling with and flicks it downwards. The light goes off. “Mate, it’s simple. If you want them on flick down, if you don’t, flick up. If you don’t want them when you come home then don’t turn them the fuck on.”

Arthur stares. He knows there is no way that he left all of them on. He’s not an idiot.

“You need help.” Gwaine disappears out of his door.

**. . .**

Three weeks into his new place Arthur thinks Gwaine might’ve had a point.

The lights have been fine.

The water has not.

Cold when he turns on hot. Hot when he turns on cold. When he calls Gwaine up to fix it, they are fine. Sometimes no water comes out. Sometimes he hasn’t even touched the tap before the liquid gushes out and floods over his basin.

Just like it’s doing now. All he wanted to do was brush his teeth. His toothbrush bobs gently up and down before travelling over the side of his porcelain sink as if it were the Niagara Falls.

“Shitshitshit…”

He clamps a hand under the faucet trying to stem the flow and sprays himself in the face for his troubles. Hanging his head low for a second he shakes the water out of his eyes and looks back up into the mirror.

He’s not alone in the reflection.

“Who the-“ Arthur turns his head around expecting to see a man behind him – though praying that there isn’t.

His prayers are answered apparently because no one is there. It’s just him, alone in his overflowing bathroom, hair plastered to his forehead, t-shirt clinging to his body, pyjama bottoms drenched in water.

**. . .**

Arthur calls in sick.

His heart was shattered. The new apartment was him starting to plaster it back together.

He can feel something trying to tear away his progress.

**. . .**

_“Arthur, pick up your damn phone and talk to me.”_

Arthur deletes the message.

**. . .**

When he goes into work he’s greeted by the last person he expected to see.

“Father.”

Uther hugs Arthur tightly but carefully.

“What are you doing here?” No, it’s too soon, he shouldn’t be here, Arthur needs to be alone. He’s meant to be alone.

“I’m here to check on my son who apparently ignores his messages.” Uther sits him down gently as if they aren’t in Arthur’s office and he still calls the shots. “And to allay the fears of your many friends.”

Arthur can’t help but feel surprised.

“I don’t know how many more calls I can take of Guinevere sobbing into the phone worrying about whether you’ve decided to kill yourself or not.” Uther lays his hand carefully atop Arthur’s blonde hair.

“Tell her I’m fine,” Arthur manages.

Uther strokes once ending at the back of Arthur’s neck. “You sure I can’t tell her anything else?”

“Please. Nothing else.”

**. . .**

The lights are off and the water works fine.

When Arthur looks into the mirror he’s alone.

**. . .**

Before he goes to sleep he hears a voice whisper: “Arthur. I can’t believe it.”

He chalks it up to tiredness.

**. . .**

His alarm blares on at one in the morning. Arthur groggily pulls himself from sleep and turns it off.

His bedside lamp flickers on.

There’s a man sitting on the end of his bed.

**. . .**

“Jesus fuck!” Arthur scrambles onto his knees pressed up against the wall, eyes frantically searching for a way out. The man would catch him if he made a run for the door. He could go out the window…and plummet to his death? Maybe, depends on what the man wants to do to him. Broken bones versus being possibly, what, shot, filleted, raped?

He looks at the man who looks back at him. Arthur could take him, maybe a tackle around the middle, a punch to knock him out cold…

The man curiously tilts his head to the side and looks behind him before turning back and waving.

Arthur blames it on the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the fact that he waves back.

The move animates the man and he jumps onto his knees, a smile breaking out onto his face.

“You can see me! Oh my god, I can’t believe it worked.”

Arthur nods, unsure of the procedure on responding to a crazy person.

“Arthur! I can’t believe it! Honestly, you don’t know how much effort it took.” The man beams at him. “You look great! I can’t believe I finally found you-“

The words come out unbidden. “I don’t even know you!”

“-and I’m _dead!_ ” The dramatic emphasis on dead catches Arthur’s attention.

“You’re dead?”

“You don’t know who I am?” the man asks ignoring Arthur’s question. The man bites his lip frowning. “Arthur it’s me.”

Arthur blinks once not giving anything away.

The man blinks stupidly back at him but something in Arthur’s silence seems to strike him down. His shoulders slump and he covers his mouth with his hand. “You really don’t recognise me?” The voice is quiet.

The little sliver of heart that Arthur managed to mend shatters again as he says, “No…I don’t.”

The man disappears before his eyes.

**. . .**

Nothing happens in his apartment for two days.

**. . .**

Lance spots him in the supermarket before Arthur can duck into another isle.

“Arthur,” Lance begins. His hair’s grown since the funeral. “How are you going?”

Arthur shuffles his feet. “Okay.”

Lance nods. “Are you okay?” he huffs it out struggling to find the right words. “I mean…shit, Arthur.”

Arthur’s eyes roam past Lance to can of tomatoes that he needs to get. “I told you. I’m okay.” He doesn’t mean to sound so cold.

Lance opens his mouth before closing it. He opens it again. Closes it just as quickly.

“Just spit it out.” Arthur doesn’t mean to snap.

“Could you…just contact the others? You don’t have to give them an address. A phone number would suffice. We all promised to stay away from the office and we’ve kept to that but Arthur,” pleading enters Lance’s voice, “I just…you’re not alone...and…please tell me that you know…”

“Know what?” Arthur wants to pull back the words once they escape his mouth but it’s too late.

Lance doesn’t touch him, just looks at him as if he’s slowly wasting away. “That it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.” Arthur hefts the basket in front of him trying to force more space between them.

Lance has to go now.

Bless Lance for being an observant and wonderful person. “I’ll let you get back to your shopping.” Arthur breathes a sigh of relief moving towards the tin cans just as Lance turns back. “If you need anything…”

Arthur waves a hand not caring if Lance sees it or not.

He puts four tins of tomato into his basket.

**. . .**

Taking a deep breath in, he unlocks his front door, puts his shopping away and goes into his room.

The man is back staring at the photo on his dresser.

“Oi!” Angrily Arthur slams the photo face down. The man jumps back, hands out in the universal gesture of ‘I mean you no harm’. “Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

“Arthur, please.”

“No, get out! I don’t care what happened to you. If you died here, fine you died here. But I live here now. This is my place so get out.”

“My name is Merlin!” The man, no Merlin, blurts out, eyes wide and shiny with hope.

Arthur lets out a mirthless laugh. “Fine. Get the fuck out of my apartment _Merlin_.”

“It’s not jogging anything.” Merlin says.

Patience lost and forgetting that Merlin is a ghost, Arthur pulls his right hand back and punches Merlin…except he doesn’t…and just watches his fist past through the side of Merlin’s face.

Arthur stumbles back in shock. “You really are a ghost.”

**. . .**

Merlin’s sitting in a chair staring at the cup of tea that Arthur puts in front of him. Sheepishly he looks at it as Arthur sits down on the opposite side of the kitchen table. “I can’t drink that.”

Arthur stops mid-sip and barks out a strangled laugh. “Of course you can’t…because you’re a ghost and ghosts aren’t real. And yet, I’m talking to you, and you’re a ghost.”

Merlin watches him. Mouth pinched in a frown. “What’s going on?”

“Aside from me losing my damn mind?” Merlin hesitates to nod. “Nothing much. What about you?”

Merlin blinks out.

**. . .**

Uther calls him again.

_“Arthur. I’m beginning to worry. Call me.”_

Arthur does.

He tells Uther that he’s losing his mind.

Uther calls him again this time adding the number of a therapist.

Arthur deletes this message.

Merlin watches him do it.

**. . .**

Its four days after Merlin last blinked out that they finally exchange words.

Arthur’s the one to break the silence.

They are sitting in the living room. Merlin cross-legged in front of the TV, Arthur hanging upside down over the edge of his couch so the blood rushes to his head.

“What happened to you? How did you die?”

Merlin stiffens before turning around. Arthur mutes the TV. “I died in 1982.”

“I was born in that year.”

Merlin looks at him teary eyed but smiling. “I know.”

He doesn’t know why there’s so much weight behind those two words but Arthur manages to smile back. “So what happened?”

“I went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up the next day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Merlin scoots forward and rests his cheek on his knee. “I talked to my mum before I went to sleep. The last words I told her were ‘I love you’. The last words I got to hear were ‘I love you too’. That’s not a bad way to go.”

Arthur’s smile vanishes and he rockets to his room, door slamming behind him.

Merlin sighs wishing that Arthur hadn’t muted the TV.

**. . .**

Arthur talks to him next on a Saturday.

They’re in the kitchen. Arthur munches on cereal whilst doing the daily cross-word. Merlin hovers behind him neck craned over Arthur’s shoulder giving him hints.

“You died here right?”

“Yep. Died right in your bedroom,” Merlin says cheerfully. “Oh, put an ‘A’ in three down.”

Arthur turns his head up at Merlin. “Hey, I sleep in that bedroom and I don’t want to think about you dying or wondering if I’ll be its next victim.”

“Hurry up and put in the ‘A’!” Merlin jabs the newspaper, his finger passing right through to the knuckle.

Arthur sticks his pencil through Merlin’s wrist. “That is so fucking weird.”

**. . .**

Arthur gets called into work.

When he gets there it’s practically all hands on deck and he doesn’t know why until Uther walks into his office dressed in a suit. Uther hasn’t worn suits since he retired. It’s been jeans and polo tops for four years.

“I’m sorry to call you in.”

“You’re here. Like…working?”

“Just for the moment, I promise I’ll be out of here once that inbred bastard stops trying to get your company.”

“Who’s trying to get the company?!” This is the first that Arthur’s heard of this.

“Cenred.” Uther paces the floor like a caged animal. “He’s trying to buy out Morgana’s shares, claims that they had a contract drawn up transferring it all to him.” Morgana would never do that to him. As if sensing his distress Uther stops pacing and leans forward with his hands on the desk. “Arthur, Morgana did nothing of the sort. You know it and I promise it.”

“Okay,” Arthur says softly.

“Cenred and Morgause’s company is flailing and they’re desperate to save it. Morgana was close with Morgause and she’s going to use that to her advantage but remember…” Uther holds Arthur’s chin with a gentle hand. “Morgana was loyal to you. She protected you and will continue to do so.”

Arthur jerks away and stands up. “Sorry, but you can’t do anything if you’re dead.”

Uther stands straight. “If that’s what you believe then you are welcome to it. I believe that your mother is looking out for you, and I now believe that your sister is looking out for you too.”

Shame flares in his gut and frustration makes him pinch the bridge of his nose. He looks at his father and sees the pain of loss etched in the wrinkles around his eyes, he lowers his voice to something a bit louder than a murmur. “If that’s what you believe, then they’re looking out for you too.”

The haunted look in Uther’s eyes is replaced with a small spark of warmth.

**. . .**

Merlin jumps up and stars babbling as soon as he enters the door.

“Merlin, slow down.”

“Look Arthur.” Merlin wiggles his fingers and Arthur watches the couch cushion hover a few metres off the chair.

“That’s…good right?”

Merlin nods vigorously like a bobble-head.

“Great. I’m gonna take a shower.” When Arthur passes Merlin he jumps as the cushion hits him in the upper back.”

He lets out a shout of pain and turns to see Merlin ghosting towards him fretting. “Oh my god, you’re injured, when? I didn’t throw it that hard, did I? I didn’t mean it honestly Arthur.”

The concern Arthur muses is sweet and clumsy – surprisingly, it doesn’t irritate the hell out of him like everyone else seems to manage. “Merlin, don’t worry, just, took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“You’re hurt.” Merlin’s not convinced.

Arthur relents, giving Merlin a little but not the whole truth. “Old injury.”

“Not that old and stop lying to me.”

Huh, that wasn’t expected. “How do you know if I’m lying?”

“Because I know you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Oh but I do. Tell me about the injury.”

Arthur removes his outer shirt leaving him in his black undershirt. “There’s nothing to tell. How come you haven’t seen my injury? You’ve been here since I’ve moved in.” He looks up quickly at Merlin who follows him into the bedroom. “Have you seen me naked?!”

Merlin blushes with mortification. “No!” Arthur gives him the side eye. “I swear it. I never entered the bathroom. Or your bedroom.”

“Except you did enter my bedroom.”

“Only when the door was open and you were wearing clothes. I promise, I haven’t seen you naked.”

And Merlin’s telling the truth, he thinks…he’s not really sure but he’s going assume that Merlin hasn’t been moonlighting as a Peeping Tom…Peeping Merlin.

“I’m going to take my shirt off. So if you could…you know, piss off? That would be appreciated.”

“What about the injury?”

“Bye Merlin.”

“Arthur, please?”

“Merlin even if I did show it to you what would happen then? You can’t fix it. Now I’m going to start stripping and I’d prefer it if you left but if you must stay then by all means.”

“Sending mixed signals much,” Merlin mutters. Arthur takes his shirt of and begins moving to his pants. “Fine you win. Bye!” Merlin blinks out, the TV turns on in the living room and shouts just in case Arthur doubts him.

**. . .**

It’s strange until it gets to the point where it’s not.

**. . .**

Arthur has lived in the apartment for just under a month when he realises that he likes having Merlin around. Merlin is kind, funny and doesn’t look at him with sympathy in his eyes.

But Merlin doesn’t know yet.

Arthur hasn’t told him and he’s afraid to because once he does Merlin will want to leave.

And isn’t it just ironic that he keeps pushing the outside world away but wishes that he could pull Merlin in to him.

**. . .**

As they’re sitting down to watch a movie on TV, the thought suddenly strikes Arthur. “You have unfinished business.”

“In a way.” Merlin doesn’t reveal anything else. This is one of the times that Arthur wishes that Merlin was solid – so he could poke him to continue. He sighs and Merlin rolls his eyes. “You’re my unfinished business.”

This isn’t surprising to Arthur, especially when he thinks back to the glee in Merlin’s voice the first time that they met. “Explain that. You know me but I don’t understand how.”

Merlin looks down and moves to sit next to him. “I said I died in 1982. I also died in 1837, 1530, 1297…”

“I don’t-“

“Reincarnation Arthur, I’ve lived over a dozen different lives over the centuries. You have too.”

“Why don’t I remember it then?”

“Because it’s your turn to live. When you die, you remember a surprising amount considering that you’re human.”

Ice settles in Arthur’s veins and he stands needing to put some distance between them. “So I take it to mean…you’re not?”

As if just realising what he’s let slip Merlin flails to his feet. “I am, I was…I mean…I was different. Just, sit, and let me explain.”

When Arthur sits, he sits in the arm chair opposite Merlin and ignores the defeat that travels through Merlin’s body as he slumps onto the couch, eyes downcast, as if he’s done something inexcusably wrong.

“The first life I remember living was so painful.” He shakes his head little. “Don’t be mistaken, a lot of it was wonderful, I truly loved it. I was raised in a small village by my mother and then was sent to live with a friend of hers in Camelot.” Merlin sneaks a quick look at him with hope plain across his face.

Arthur smiles thinly to show that he’s listening.

Apparently, Merlin mean doesn’t find what he’s searching for and the hope vanishes. “His name was Gauis, he was a physician to King Uther.”

Arthur stops himself from interrupting.

“Uther had a son. He was…when I first met him, he was such an arrogant bully. I said that I hated him though I don’t think it was hate…that’s…a very strong word. I disliked him, and he disliked me.”

Merlin shifts tucking a foot under him and pulling a knee to his chest, his chin resting upon it whilst in thought. Arthur listens rapt with attention, imagining what Merlin is describing, allowing Merlin’s voice to carry him there.

“I was charged with his protection. It was destiny. He was to become the greatest king that had ever lived. I thought it was a load of crap but…he turned out to be rather brilliant. As years passed he grew up - became a kind man, a strong prince, eventually a beloved king.”

“He sounds like a great guy.”

Merlin lets out a laugh that’s partially smothered before disappearing. Arthur frowns, calls Merlin to come back but he doesn’t.

He hears a small sob though, Merlin’s voice laced with pain and sorrow. It leaves Arthur reeling. “You were.”

**. . .**

Gwen finds him on his way to work and before he can even think about hiding she’s in front of him with a hand wrapped around his wrist and shadows stark under her eyes. “You complete and utter moron.”

It feels like her wedding ring burns him.

Arthur grabs the cup of coffee and walks out of the café with Gwen still clinging to him silent with fury.

There’s a squeeze of pressure on his arm and Gwen turns to face him. She kisses him on the cheek and then slaps his chest. “You could have called me! Fuck.”

He startles having never heard Gwen swear before. “Gwen, I’m sorry.”

“You damn well better be. Why the hell did I have to hear from second-hand sources that you were okay? Didn’t that give you a clue to how worried I was about you?”

Everyone keeps telling him this, but he can’t imagine anyone being worried about him.

Arthur closes his eyes and opens them to Gwen’s face softening. “Oh sweetheart.” She pulls him into her arms without him resisting because he took everything away from Gwen. “You stupid, stupid boy,” she mutters into his shoulder pressing a kiss to cheek.

It’s too much, he needs to leave.

“Gwen, I’ve got to go.”

She lets him out of her hold but tugs on his sleeve before he manages to get away. “Arthur…”

“Yes Gwen.”

“Will you keep in contact? I couldn’t bear to lose you either.”

**. . .**

Arthur has lived in the apartment for two and a half months.

The windows are still covered in cobwebs, paint still peels from the walls and the mould in the bathroom ceiling is travelling down the walls.

He’s lying in bed, Merlin sitting against the headboard next to him making his shoes dance across the air of his room, when Merlin asks him about the apartment.

“I like it.” His left sport shoe pirouettes around and bumps into his boots.

“But it’s depressing.”

“Merlin,” he sighs turning to his side. Merlin looks down at him and the shoes thud to the floor. “Least you could do is walk them back to the closet.” He hears his shoes plodding across, the closet door opening for a few moments before it closets with a gentle _snick_. “So what do you suggest?”

“Clean the house? Check the ceilings, get rid of the mould. Get some new furniture…actually just get some furniture. Arthur, why don’t you have furniture?”

“What are you talking about? I have a bed, dresser, couch, table, chairs…I even have a fridge and TV.”

“But none of it is your stuff and you only have two chairs around your table.”

“And you know that because you know me.”

“I remember that you had more expensive taste then a plaid couch and what amounts to yard furniture in the kitchen. Why are you living like this?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why do you delete your messages…you have friends but you never see them…you’re pulling away from people, it’s not healthy.” Merlin moves so he can lie down facing Arthur, who just watches him through heavy lidded eyes.

“I deserve it.”

“You don’t.” Merlin says quietly. “No one deserves that, least of all you.”

Arthur doesn’t dispute it but he doesn’t accept it either. He needs Merlin to talk about something else. “Tell me about us?”

**. . .**

Arthur drifts of just as Merlin says, “I had magic, and I couldn’t save you.”

**. . .**

“Merlin, come here!”

Merlin appears scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly. “What’s going on?”

“Pick a colour.” Arthur presents him with four cans of paint, one plain white, the other royal blue. When Arthur opens cans three and four Merlin gasps and Arthur looks up grinning.

They’re Pendragon red and yellow.

“I take it that these are the right ones?” he asks closing the tins and looking around the room. “I was in the store and I wanted to get blue and white and then I remembered the flags-“Arthur stops himself amending, “I mean I remember what you told me about the flags…and these just, they looked right, when I imagined it.” His excitement fades away, leaving behind feelings of guilt for not being able to remember his lives before with Merlin.

“Arthur, are you fixing the place up?”

He shrugs. “A little paint here and there wouldn’t hurt. Merlin, choose.”

“I’m choosing? But, this is you apartment.”

“You’re ‘living’ here too,” Arthur says even putting air quotes around the word living. “Plus, just because you’re a ghost doesn’t mean that you can get out of helping me paint.”

“I can’t lift a paint brush.”

“And yet you can make my shoes dance.”

“Oh.” Merlin smiles sheepishly. “I _can_ lift a paint brush.”

Merlin's controlled his abilities. The lights and water acting up was just him trying to get Arthur’s attention. He doesn’t know what happened, he says. Just he kept thinking about Arthur making him see and concentrated on that and all of a sudden he was there and Arthur could see him. Since then he’s been practising, stopping himself from blinking out, flexing his skills in picking up items.

He still can’t touch and his magic is gone.

“Leon called.”

“What did he want?”

“Message said that he wanted to see you, invite you out to dinner with the group. Gwen’s insisting. You should go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then at least call Gwen. You promised to keep in touch.” The lids of the paint cans begin to rattle promising a threat of multi-coloured walls and furniture if Arthur doesn’t place that call.

Arthur huffs, calls Merlin a drama queen and dials Gwen’s number.

His hands are shaking, wincing as the call is picked up, voice cracking as he says, “Gwen, it’s Arthur.”

Merlin goes forward driven by instinct to clasp Arthur’s shoulder in comfort before leaving to give him some privacy.

His hand passes through, Arthur shuddering as cold sweeps through his body.

**. . .**

An hour later Arthur comes back, it’s clear that he’s been crying.

Merlin stands up alarmed but hesitates to move towards him.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur looks curiously at Merlin, well aware that he looks like a complete and utter wreck. “Yeah, why?”

“Cause it looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” Merlin says.

It comes out before he can stop it. Honestly, it’s not even that good of a joke. First it’s a short bark and then another, until he’s heaving in big gulps air, clutching his stomach and face wet with tears that aren’t borne of sadness.

He hasn’t laughed like that since the crash.

**. . .**

When he walk past his dresser the next morning he catches Merlin looking at the picture that he had placed face down when they first met.

“She’s still as beautiful as I remember. How come she hasn’t left you any messages?”

Arthur breathes in deeply and Merlin backs away quickly recognising that something isn’t right.

“Where’s Morgana?”

Arthur turns to the picture.

It’s Morgana and him standing outside their first joint business venture. A small building that was the beginning of P&D Publishers. Pen and Dragon. Morgana thought it was cute. He thought it was stupid. They were both in their early twenties and ready to take on the world.

“She died.”

Merlin breaths in shakily and presses a palm to his forehead.

“Two weeks before I moved here.”

“Oh god.” Merlin says. He takes a step forward. “What happened?”

Arthur tilts the photo frame. Merlin’s reflection appears in the glass, hazy by the light but clear enough that he can see his facial expressions.

**. . .**

“I killed her.”

**. . .**

Merlin’s mouth drops open and before Arthur can turn around Merlin is in his face…and he’s _furious_. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You are!” Merlin snaps. His bedroom windows clatter open, a gale whipping his curtains up into a frenzy, leaves blowing in and spinning lazy circles in the air currents before falling onto his floor. “Why would you hurt her like that? Why would you kill her?” The words are spoken like an accusation.

Merlin is thinking the worst of him and it scares him…he didn’t think people would see it like that…he didn’t even see it like that. But Merlin did…and, no, he knows he’s a lot of things, but cold blooded monster isn’t one of them.

Angrily he stalks forward until he was toe to toe with Merlin. “How dare you think that? I’d never hurt her! She’s my sister; I love her so fucking much! You don’t know anything about what happened on that day Merlin, and you say you know me?”

Merlin’s nostrils flare. “Well set me straight; prove to me that you aren’t a _murderer_.”

Arthur punches Merlin knowing that it won’t hurt him but the rage he’s feeling blinds him.

He is not a murderer.

“We were in the car driving back from a party! It was late and she was laughing so hard in the passenger seat and then I was looking at her. I swear I only took my eyes off the road for a second.” Tears build in his eyes. “And then Morgana was screaming and when I looked back at the road there was this truck and…I swear, Merlin it came out of nowhere.”

“What happened next?” Merlin asks softly.

Arthur closes his eyes but the memories hit him hard and he feels life just fall out of his body. He’s on his knees when he opens his eyes, Merlin’s crouched opposite him. “It hit us, and…and, Morgana was so quiet next to me. The truck’s lights were still on and, there was just red all over her and I was screaming.” He hiccups. “She was awake though, told me to shut up. I couldn’t get out, I wanted to get out, but it hurt too much. She…her breathing was really bad. Her head was turned towards me and, blood kept coming out of her mouth. It dripped on my hand and I kept trying to find a pulse, but my fingers were slipping…”

“Arthur.”

“Merlin, I couldn’t…she was whispering all these things and…then…oh god, she stopped and blood stopped coming out of her mouth…and Merlin I swear I couldn’t do anything to stop her from dying. It was an accident. It wasn’t my fault!”

Merlin’s crying, but at those words he lets out a smile. “I know.”

The words he confessed hit Arthur like a ton of bricks. “Oh god,” Arthur brings his hands to his face and cries into them. Shoulders heaving as he sobs loud and painfully.

Merlin doesn’t say anything. There’s a whisper of a kiss at his temple. Nothing definite or solid, but Arthur senses it as he struggles to breathe. He’s panicking because he’s admitted that he doesn’t deserve his self-imposed punishment and exile but brain can’t seem to think otherwise.

Merlin leaves him sobbing on his knees.

His heart breaks again.

**. . .**

He’s lonely.

Merlin hasn’t appeared.

He cleans the windows of the cobwebs and repaints the frames white.

**. . .**

He goes out to lunch with Gwen five days after he had the break down in his bedroom.

Gwen greets him with a blinding smile.

They laugh.

They eat pizza.

They talk about Morgana.

He apologises for disappearing after the funeral. For ignoring her when she needed him most.

Gwen waves his concern away, tells him that she had Lance and even Uther to depend on.

She accepts that he was grieving in his own way but now hopes that he’s forgiven himself enough to re-join life with the rest of the people who love him.

He tells Gwen about his realisation that he’s not to blame to which she says that anyone would have told him that.

He also tells her about Morgana’s last words.

Gwen smiles knowingly as she sips her water. “My wife was a smart woman.”

**. . .**

Gwaine catches him just as he’s about to run out and meet his father.

“Mate, you haven’t had any issues have you?”

Arthur shakes his head fighting the concern that appears when he thinks about Merlin disappearing on him.

“Great, but I thought you should know. I got these from the landlord.”

He hands a folder to Arthur.

As Arthur flips through its contents he becomes more and more surprised. “I don’t even know the landlord-“

In old spidery handwriting there’s a note on the back cover of the folder. _Hello young warlock, I see you found your king again._

He shuts the folder, thanks Gwaine and runs back up the stairs.

“Merlin! Get your skinny arse out here right now!”

Merlin doesn’t come.

**. . .**

The folder is filled with him and Merlin. They’ve died in and around the area of the apartment each and every century. It’s always one after the other.

The records are meticulous. 

He reads about Merlin’s death in 1982.

He still remembers simple little tale that Merlin weaved.

The truth is anything but.

Merlin lied.

**. . .**

His bedroom is painted with red and yellow, the bathroom is painted blue.

He adds a chair to his bedroom and photos of his family on the walls.

The bathroom ceiling is cleared of the mould. The furniture is changed to ones that are a bit more upmarket.

Leon comes over to play video games.

He invites Gwaine up to drink beer.

He stops avoiding people.

His heart is mending.

**. . .**

He’s been at the apartment for four months.

Tonight he lies in bed. Exhaustion is creeping up on him slowly trying to claim him.

When he rolls over Merlin is there, lying next to him.

He wants to smile, make his expression match the bounding joy in his chest, but he can’t. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I didn’t know if you were still angry about that thing I did.”

“That’s not what I’m angry about.” Arthur pulls out the folder and opens it to Merlin’s last life. “You lied to me.”

Merlin nods.

“You killed yourself.”

“They took away my magic.”

“Before or after?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’m sorry. For you not being able to tell me when we were in Camelot.” Arthur knows that he’s not _the_ Arthur so the apology is a bit meaningless but it doesn’t seem to matter.

"It's okay, you came around." Merlin nods in acceptance. "You’re better.” Merlin observes. “Happier?”

Arthur nods, feeling his eyes beginning to shut.

“I’m glad.” Merlin says. “My unfinished business is now finished.”

Arthur shakes his head trying to stay awake. “You’re leaving.”

“I am.”

“I wish I could touch you.” Arthur doesn’t care how sappy it sounds because it’s true.

Merlin’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. He makes sure Arthur is watching as he runs his fingers along the palm of Arthur’s hand. “Bye Arthur.”

There’s a kiss on his cheek; the gentle pressure of chapped lips.

It feels real.

Arthur closes his eyes.

**. . .**

The final piece of his heart slots back into place.

**. . .**

Arthur goes to visit Morgana’s grave.

He talks. She listens.

**. . .**

Life goes on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
